


Bite the Bullet

by tal_5



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Attempted Murder, Betrayal, Burglary, Child Murder, Crime Scenes, Crimes & Criminals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Heavy Angst, Humor, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Inappropriate Humor, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Murder, Mystery, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tal_5/pseuds/tal_5
Summary: Florida’s first victim of 2018 was a young woman.More cases with no evidence.More victims with no future.More people with no hope.Can Thomas Sanders and his team figure out the answer to all of these cases? Is there more to them than 'burglaries gone wrong'?





	Bite the Bullet

**Author's Note:**

> In the last draft of this chapter, I was writing it in the early morning and surprise, it’s 3AM. 
> 
> This story was very much inspired by multiple crime television series’. To list a few examples, I’d say some of my main inspirations were: Brooklyn Nine Nine, Criminal Minds, NCIS, and Bones.
> 
> Also, despite this being a rewrite, this story was definitely still very much inspired by a Sanders Sides Brooklyn Nine Nine fic, named ‘hold your breath until it’s all okay’, written by @notafeeling on Tumblr and Wattpad. And the fic I’m referencing has been posted on both! I definitely recommend it.

Florida’s first victim of 2018 was a young woman.

Shot in the chest three times, several possessions stolen, your typical burglary gone wrong. Unfortunately, the Floridian Police Department were still tracking down the culprits, which wasn’t completely unusual, considering a murder had taken place, whether it was planned or not.

However, with around twelve percent of burglaries being planned out and only approximately seven point two percent of burglaries resulting in injury, the intricate clean-up of evidence was startling. All bullets were removed from the victim’s chest, and other than the blood that had slowly pooled around the woman as the days had passed, the living room she died in was wiped clean of both blood and fingerprints. The poor lady was discovered two weeks after the incident, when her neighbours returned from vacation and decided to tell her all about it.

With no leads, the Floridian officers had no choice but to close the case.

Not too long after this event, three more cases were opened.

Another burglary gone wrong, a double homicide, and a regular homicide. Now, this was a little more concerning.

The similarities between these four cases weren’t _staggering_ , but with all the false media posted about each one, the Floridian Police Department couldn’t blame the public for getting a little panicked. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, almost every social media site had at least one post thoroughly describing how there was a serial killer on the loose. Many claimed to have known the culprit too, not that any of them actually phoned in to say this.

With each new victim, those in Florida began to grow restless and uneasy. Would they be next? Some weren’t prepared to find out and moved out of the area, leaving their whole lives behind because of semi-truthful rumours. Of course, this didn’t stop whoever the culprit(s) was (were) from continuing their spree of killings and burglaries.

Four more cases in the span of three months. All with such similar circumstances that even Floridian Police Officers were unsure of what their next move should be.

More cases with no evidence.

More victims with no future.

More people with no hope. 

* * *

 “This coffee sucks.”

“Officer Brookes made it.”

“ _Of course_ he did.”

Bitter and much too hot, Roman Perez honestly believes that Officer Brookes was hired specifically to torment him. Though Logan Miller, his best friend of nineteen years, has assured him plenty of times that he was hired for exactly the same reasons every other officer in the precinct. And Roman, despite not getting along with the man, knows for a fact that Officer Brookes is incredible at what he does; giving others the impression of indolence, but being the definition of competence. A logic Roman has never understood. Why not take credit for the work you do? Why _not_ act like you care about your profession? 

God, it’s probably for the ‘aesthetic’.

What aesthetic, Roman hasn’t quite figured out. The dark clothes and insistence on acting as idle, yet as _difficult_ , as possible point to the typical attempt at seeming tough and boyish. But that just doesn’t seem like him at all.

Why is he thinking about this so much?

Internally shaking the topic from his mind, Roman adds his typical five packets of cream and two spoonful’s of sugar, stirring it all together to create what Logan calls ‘The Vomit Inducer’. Sadly, it’s the only way Roman can drink coffee, absolutely despising the natural bitterness of the instant coffee Thomas buys in for them.

“Disgusting.”

Roman snorts. “Mean. I can’t drink your choice of dirt water, René _Discarded_.”

Logan merely arches an eyebrow. “Meaning... Meaning René _Descartes_?”

At his co-worker’s prideful nod, he lifts his mug closer to his nose, letting a puff of air out over the edge and into his coffee. “That was terrible.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I’m also leaving.”

With that, Logan returns to his desk, leaving a grinning Roman to place the empty packets of cream in the bin.

Today, he thinks, is the quietest day the precinct is going to have for a while. Nobody is rushing to complete last-minute forms, or panicking over a case without evidence. No, it’s actually rather peaceful, and Roman is going to take advantage of that atmosphere for as long as it lasts.

So, with his bagel buttered and salted, he collapses at his desk and takes a look at what work needs to be done for the end of the day, and what work he can leave to the last minute. As he adds a few forgotten details to a report recounting an attempted robbery, he thinks back on how frightened the family had been; the father’s gun pointed at the door, prepared to fire at any moment.

There’s a hollow echo in his chest at the memory of an unconscious child lying in a woman’s arms, tear tracks leaving painfully red cheeks, and damp lashes allowing salty droplets to pool up in the dents beneath pale lids. At least he got there in time.

No culprit as of yet, but scratches and chips on the front door suggest a more aggressive attempt of entry. But Roman also has a feeling that, as soon as the thief realised that, not only were the house owners home, but that they also had a high-quality security system installed, they high-tailed it out of there.

Sometimes, Roman’s brain likes to come up with scenarios where he _doesn’t_ save the say, which, of course, has happened before. But in the cases where he _does_ get there in time, it’s more than a little bit harrowing to think of everything that could’ve happened but didn't.

The image of an unconscious child doesn’t make it too difficult to imagine.

All he can do right now, however, is distract himself with his work. Everything was alright in the end, wasn’t it?

* * *

Later that day, the precinct’s captain, Thomas Sanders, exits his office with a reminder.

“We have a new recruit arriving today at twelve o’clock, remember.”

All officers working in the same room turn their attention to him, taking in his words and making every attempt to retain the information about their new co-worker. “Patton Edwards, turned twenty-five not too long ago. He’s fairly new, but I’ve seen his work, met him, and I certainly believe he’ll be a positive attribute to our precinct. Treat him as any less than an equal and there will be consequences, am I clear?”

After receiving a unified ‘clear’ back from his team, Thomas smiles kindly at them and offers them a grateful nod before heading back to his office. A quick glance at the clock hanging at the front of the room tells Roman that it’s around 11:45, so, fifteen minutes until the newbie arrives. Instead of focusing on this, he decides that finishing this _last sentence_ is desperately needed if he wants to go home on time tonight.

But when lunchtime arrives, so does another officer of the law.

And he’s wearing a grey cardigan. Huh.

Whilst munching his chicken salad sandwich, which is _godlike_ , Roman notices a new face making his way to the captain’s office, a small skip in his step. Beside him, Logan is raising an eyebrow at the unusually unprofessional behaviour of their new recruit, and Roman is almost impressed at the lack of nerves this guy has. Roman still remembers his first day. What a shit show.

He continues his conversation with Logan about how Donald Duck really doesn’t need to wear the shirt if he’s not going to wear pants, but for some reason, his friend doesn’t seem to be all that interested. Strange.

It takes another ten minutes, but ‘Patton soon reappears, still looking as cheery as ever and practically glowing when Thomas instructs him to take the empty desk beside Brookes’. Roman and Logan both watch in anticipation as the newbie does so, sorting out the few items he brought with him before making himself comfortable. He turns to the quiet man beside him and offers him a friendly smile. “Hi!”

Brookes cocks an eyebrow at the interaction, but takes the hand reaching out for his and shakes it firmly. “Hey... Officer Edwards, right?”

“Yeah, but you can just call me Patton, if you want.” Patton squeezes the other man’s hand briefly before pulling away and folding both of his hands in his lap. “What should I call you?”

“Brookes, if that’s alright.”

Nodding earnestly, Patton explains that the captain had already informed him about Brookes’ insistence on people referring to him by his second name, “But I have the memory of a goldfish sometimes! I like your eyeshadow, by the way, where’d you get it from?”

Brookes’ gaze is flickering between one side of the room and the officer sitting beside him, blinking a little more than what’s natural, and stammering out a ‘thank you’. “I, uh, got it from Sephora.”

Patton’s smile only widens as he reminisces about ‘the time he and his cousin went there’, asking more about which brand Brookes’ eyeshadow was and giggling at the answer, muttering something to him about his cousin. And in return, Brookes laughs. He _laughs_.

Obviously, as usual, Roman is being dramatic because of course Officer Brookes has the ability to laugh, he’s a human being. But in (around) the two years that Roman has known him, he’s almost _never_ heard the man laugh! And if he’s going to be honest, it’s quite a lovely laugh. Warm, but a little bit raspy. A little rough. It suits him, strangely.

Next to him, Logan mumbles his opinion on the new employee with an uneasy edge to his voice. “I’m not sure about the new recruit.”

Roman furrows his eyebrows. “Why?”

“He seems to be very... in touch with his feelings. And, of course, that isn’t a bad thing. I just worry that his being so will affect his line of judgement, or it may result in him being more sensitive to heavier situations.”

A sympathetic smile crosses Roman’s features for a moment before he hides it away, as to not seem patronising. “Emotional doesn’t equal weak, my friend. It could be helpful, even! Just wait it out.”

Logan chews the inside of his cheek before shrugging. “Fair enough, but I’d like to keep an eye on him.”

One wiggle of the eyebrows sends a surge of pain to Roman’s stomach, and he apologises profusely to his friend, silently noting the pink flush on his cheeks. But he wouldn’t mention it. No way. Not for the sacrifice of his stomach and lower intestines. He needs those to eat.

And this chicken salad sandwich is just too fucking _good!_


End file.
